


kisses and fire alarms

by chwepen



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-28 01:58:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16714369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chwepen/pseuds/chwepen
Summary: drabble + “is that smoke?”





	kisses and fire alarms

 

Unlocking the door, stepping out of your shoes, and putting your jacket away is the typical list of things you do after coming home from work, along with greeting Hansol with a kiss if he beat you to your shared apartment. Luckily, he got a day off, so your intent to kiss him first trumped the rest of your tiny task list. Of course, you still needed to get dinner ready once you unwound from the day’s events. Before you can hang your coat on the hook, however, the distinct smell of something burning in the oven grabs your attention. In that instant, the fire alarm blares.

“Hansol? Is that smoke?!” You shriek, running to the kitchen to see the plumes of smoke swirling through the air. The smell permeates through the area, and you know the taste is most likely worse. You take the mystery dish out of the oven with a clothed hand. Inspecting the blackened bits and edges, you realize there’s no right answer to guessing what food it is. You can barely call the outer exterior skin.

As you fan the remaining smoke with a rag, the screech of the alarm coming to a stop, Hansol runs out of your bedroom, surprise in his wide eyes. Wearing an old workout shirt, swimming trunks, a cleaning mask, and rubber gloves, you wonder if he was deciding between cleaning the tub or taking a shallow swim in it. “I’m sorry! I must have lost track of time,” he mutters, taking his mask and gloves off to set on the counter.

“It’s okay. I’m more concerned about that  _concoction_ you made growing arms and legs,” you say, laughing. “What’s with the cleaning supplies and bathing suit?”

“Well, I thought to surprise you I’d clean the house and make you dinner tonight. I was just finishing the bathroom when I put the casserole in the oven, but that failed. Clearly.” Disappointment, in himself and the turn of events, paints his face. The pout on his lips and downturn of his eyes reminds you of a kid who got the wrong toy in his cereal box. A part of your heart stings at the image. “I didn’t wanna get my shorts dirty or anything, so using these,” he pointed to his trunks, “seemed like a good idea. Stupid right?”

“No, not stupid at all.” The walk towards him feels longer than it takes, but once your hands wrap around his neck and you press your lips to his, you care less about not seeing him for eight hours. You only hope Hansol doesn’t feel like he failed you. If anything, his attempt to take care of you and do the menial chores himself is absolutely heartwarming. He never slacks on his responsibilities, especially not when you need him, but his wish to give you some downtime while he took care of everything else only proves how selfless and lovable the boy is.

When you separate, you grin at him and run your fingers through his hair. “The house looks great, and I bet your second casserole will be even better.”

“I mean, you can’t go anywhere but up after you burn something.” Hansol grins back. His hands wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“That’s true, but now that means we can order takeout.”

It takes less than ten minutes to order from the Chinese restaurant down the street, and you know it’ll only take twenty for the food to arrive. When Hansol wraps his arms around you again, he doesn’t hide his smirk.

“Well, what should we do while we wait for the takeout?” He asks, running his hands up and down the line of your hips. The way he pinches and hugs your curves and teases the space between you both with a gleam in his eye, you almost entertain the idea he planned it this way.

Lucky for him, you like his way too. 

“Since you cleaned the house, I’m sure we can think of something else to fill the time.” You pull him his mouth back to yours with a smug smile. 

Later, when you take bits of his beef and broccoli to trade for your orange chicken, you remind yourself how happy you feel being home and in the company of the person who loves you most, relaxing together in the simplest ways.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted to my writing blog on tumblr (@chwepen if you'd like to find me there too ♡)!


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